Enter Stage Right
by RadonStars
Summary: Talent and a desire to perform isn't always enough. To steal the spotlight, first you have to be able to stand in it. Original Character inspired by The Glee Project  primarily Damian McGinty
1. Chapter 1

_Credit for "Nightingale in Berkley Square" in this story goes to Bobby Darin. All rights to characters and places forfeited to Fox's Glee and The Glee Project with the exception of the original character Thomas Keane._

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><p>The first day of school is annoying. The first day of a new school is frightening. The first day of a new school in a new country…Thomas Keane couldn't keep the smile off his face. <em>That<em> was a challenge.

Before landing in Ohio, Thom initially had this vision of standing in front of the school in black jeans and leather duster, black hair mussed exactly right. He'd take his sunglasses off, toss a smoldering blue-eyed gaze at the nearest cheerleader, and walk in the double doors, king of the school. He'd seen it happen enough on TV that the fantasy seemed plausible, at least. As it turned out, the reality was about as far from that dream as life could possibly get.

To start, the trunk with his clothes in it had gotten misplaced somewhere between Ireland and the States, so he had exactly two pairs of worn out jeans, one faded T-shirt and one suit that his mother insisted he keep with him, just in case. So the leather jacket and black jeans were out. But, he comforted himself, at least he still had the hair and sunglasses down. As the young man walked up to the square, bland façade of William McKinley High school, Thom scanned the mass of people for that one lucky cheerleader. And scanned again. And again. It wasn't that there wasn't a cheerleader. There were at least four, all in helpful bright red uniforms, and all gorgeous. It was the sheer mass of people that stopped Thom in his tracks. He had been homeschooled until he was ten and then placed in a tiny Catholic school just down the road from his centuries old family home. Nothing could have prepared him for this tumult of people shouting, pushing, laughing… But when one of the ubiquitous cheerleaders caught his slightly slackjawed gaze and gave him a wink, stealing his initial plan of attack, Thom immediately decided that America was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Once inside the school, the chaos lessened slightly. Or at any rate, it divided itself up into easier to handle smaller groups. Trying to follow his map as inconspicuously as possible, Thom drank in as much of the totally alien environment as he could. Here and there he could clearly pick out the American archetypes- popular, band kid, nerd, and jock. In fact, one of the jocks, an American footballer by the meat of the guy, gave him a not so subtle once over as he passed. Thom grinned a little back at the big guy, who immediately scowled and turned away. Ah well. Just because he was straight didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a compliment.

Thom finally arrived at Classroom 305, Intro to American Literature. He headed for a desk near the center of the room. A wildly over the top goth Asian girl was applying a coat of black nail polish at the desk next to his. She glanced up as Thom slung his backpack down and settled himself in the seat. She flashed him an unexpectedly warm smile, at odds with her standoffish attire..

"Hey," she said quietly. Her voice was barely audible over the rest of the chatter in the room. "I'm going to guess you didn't do the reading?"

Thom was a little taken aback, but shrugged gamely.

"Ah, no," he said, half his attention engaged on the pretty blonde on the arm of some great hulking fellow who just walked in. "Today's my first day."

The Asian girl grinned. "Awesome, so I won't be the only one who gets picked on for slacking off today. Cool accent, by the way. My name's Tina, welcome to McKinley."

Thom nodded and offered a halfhearted smile in return. "Thanks." He was about to ask what the assignment had even been on, but – what was her name? Tina?- had already bent back over her nails, effectively ending the conversation.

_OK, nice to meet you too, _ Thom thought to himself, one eyebrow slightly raised. _Moving on! _

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of class changes and introductions. They all followed the same pattern- a hello, followed by studied nonchalance or wide eyed expressions of glee when Thom said hey back. In fact, the young Irishman was beginning to suspect that he could have been a purple one-eyed hunchback and still have scored a handful of party invites as soon as he opened his mouth. But why look a gift horse in the mouth? Game and match for true American stereotypes!

Even considering the extra hour and a half he had to spend in the office, being grilled by the principal on his background and religious leanings, couldn't take away from a really excellent first day. Thom walked down the now empty hallways streaming with afternoon light, loaded down with an incredibly dense stack of papers. He was mulling over the humorous possibilities of getting his mum to fill everything out in Gaelic when a sudden burst of noise from a propped open door startled him out of his thoughts.

Thom peered into the doorway and stopped still, dumbfounded. A group of kids, even one in a wheelchair –incredible - were dancing around and singing. Well, the one kid was wheeling, but even so. Thom shook himself from his reverie, and barely realizing what he was doing, moved silently into the theatre. He had seen musical theatre before and his older sister had actually been in a community show group for a few years. In fact, that group was technically much better than this one. But somehow, the passion that these kids radiated was even more enthralling. It was, Thom thought with a twinge, a lot how he felt when he was singing. Always alone, of course. He'd never make it up on any stage. But if he could, this would be the way to do it.

Totally unaware of how much time he was spending absolutely rapt, Thom sat through three more numbers before a man that Thom recognized as his third period Spanish teacher called a stop. As the kids gathered in a huddle in front of the stage, Thom was also surprised to recognize that goth girl…Tina. He never would have pegged her as the performing type. Minus one for American stereotypes.

Thom tuned back in for the end of the Spanish teacher's speech.

"…really promising dry runs, guys. If we keep this level of energy, Nationals are in the bag!" A ripple of excitement ran through the club, a few high fives and grins all around.

"But we have got to recruit some new blood. We're graduating a really strong class this year and we need equally strong team players to step up and keep us fresh. Alright?" Thom couldn't see Mr…Wooster? Schuester's? face, but he could hear the earnestness in his voice. It seemed to affect the club in the same way. A scattered chorus of "You know it!" and whistles were the enthusiastic response.

"Alright, see you guys Thursday. Great first Glee Club rehearsal. Break!"

Thom shrank back into his shadowy nook as the Glee Club disbanded and walked out in chattering groups of two or three. He knew he should head out too, but couldn't make himself leave.

After a few minutes of silence, Thom started walking down the aisle to the stage. He moved quickly, pulled by an inexplicable desire to be standing on the dusty black platform, but trying to drink in the soaring space as he walked. He paused briefly in the pit and then jumped easily up to the stage. He turned around to face the great gaping space that was the audience. Most of the lights were off, so he could clearly see the rows and rows of seats. Objectively, he admitted to himself, the space wasn't that large or impressive. He had gone to see his mother speak at venues that held upwards of 10,000 people. But somehow, when he was the one facing the empty, expectant seats…a pleasurable thrill worked its way up Thom's back.

He walked slowly backwards, trainers giving off faint squeaks that reverberated in the emptiness of the theatre. When he judged he was about halfway back, Thom stopped. He took a deep breath in, reveling in the feel of the air, stale as it was, filling up his lungs. He wasn't a superstitious person, but he fancied for a minute that the strains and notes and passions of previous performers were floating around him. All he had to do was catch them. Another breath in, and he began to sing.

"_That certain night, the night we met  
>There was magic abroad in the air<br>There were angels dining at the Ritz  
>And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square"<em>

Thom grinned like a fool as he sang, a rich, deep baritone bursting out and filling up the silence of the theatre. His Irish accent was barely noticeable, but a word here and there was caught up in the lilt and lent a flirtation to the already heady song. As the first verse drew to a close, he started moving upstage. Not dancing exactly – he would've considered two left feet an improvement over his actual abilities- but moving in time with the song in a joyous, loose sort of way. Thom could almost hear the big band backing him. In his mind, the beat up jeans and pale green T-shirt transformed into a silky black tuxedo. The trombones blared brassy, snares lightly kept time, and the violins blended with the trumpets to a soaring crescendo. With a smile and wink at imaginary girls in the audience, Thom started in on the final verse.

"_The streets of town were paved with stars  
>It was such a romantic affair<br>And as we kissed and said good-night  
>A nightingale sang<br>A nightingale sang  
>I know 'cause I was there<br>That night in Berkeley Square!"_

Thom flung his arms out as the last lines came bursting out. The McKinley High auditorium rang with bass vibrato and with eyes screwed tight, Thom imagined he was hearing the swell of a standing ovation taking over the final triumphant chords of his live band. He stood there for a minute, head spinning and chest heaving with adrenaline before a tiny crescendo of real claps broke through his big band fantasy.

Thom's eyes shot open and his arms dropped like lead weights. Blue eyes darted left and right in the dim light before focusing on a small figure walking down the theatre aisle. Thom recognized her as the girl who had been at the forefront of nearly every number during the singing group's rehearsal. During the songs, she had been a chameleon, going from ecstatic, to pained, to honest-to-goodness tears during a particularly heartfelt ballad. Now the tanned face framed by dark hair shone with pleasure.

"That was wonderful," Rachel Berry enthused as she approached the boy, dark eyes bright and shining. She could already hear the two of them harmonizing at Nationals, bringing the judges to their knees in awe of their talent. She paused for a second, lost in the beautiful fantasy, before shaking herself back to the present. First she had to convince the boy to join Glee. But that shouldn't be too hard.

"Uh, hi," Thom said cautiously as the girl reached the stage at last. "Sorry if this is your space. I just got a little carried away." He coughed slightly around a growing tightness in his chest. How long had he had an audience for?

Rachel's eyes got wider, if that were even possible, at his Irish brogue.

"Oh, that explains why you're not already in Glee club. You're definitely not from here, are you?" She pulled herself up on stage and sat on the edge. She patted the floor next to her, motioning for the boy to come sit.

Thom glanced around, feeling oddly claustrophobic in the girl's wide eyed stare and expansive way of talking. But he couldn't see any reason why he couldn't sit for a minute. With a careful smile, he sat down cross-legged a few feet away from her.

_Did she ever blink?_ He wondered to himself, giving her a once over now that she was better lit. Her outfit was interesting to say the least – short argyle skirt with a clean, pressed blouse, socks up over her knees and shiny patent leather loafers. The mass of dark brown hair was tightly pulled back from her forehead with an absurdly cutesy headband with tiny pink hearts dancing over it, at odds with the secretarial vibe of her clothing. Overall, the effect was disconcerting and hard to take seriously. Thom replaced his "small talk" smile with a more relaxed one. He really didn't think he was about to get in trouble.

Rachel saw the shift in the young man's features, and preened a little bit, reading it as a compliment to herself.

"My name is Rachel Berry. I'm the president of the Glee Club here at McKinley High School, and it is my pleasure to offer you a chance to audition for a spot in our upcoming season! I came back in because I really feel like we didn't give it our all during that last run through- Mr. Schue always says something about four hour practices being against school policy, but I think it's a policy designed to keep my talent at a minimum- anyway, I was going to do a run-through on my own, and imagine my surprise to hear a totally new bass voice! We have lots of tenors, but a real lack of baritones. So we'll expect you on Thursday? The audition is really just a formality, believe-"

"Ah, wait. One second," Thom cut in to Rachel's endless monologue. "Are you asking me to join your…what club?"

Rachel smiled sympathetically at the confused expression on Thom's face and reached over to pat him gently on the arm.

"Glee Club," she said slowly and enunciating. "It's a group that performs musical numbers with dancing and acting to complement the storytelling nature of our profession. What's your name by the way?"

Thom raised an eyebrow and Rachel noticed with a jolt just how blue his eyes were, especially when contrasted with his pale skin and dark hair.

"Thomas Keane, but everybody calls me Thom. Uh, and you're right, I'm new," He flashed a half grin at Rachel. "Me mum is a professor of Gaelic and she got a two year lecture tour Stateside."

Now it was Rachel's turn to look skeptical in the dim light.

"Out of Lima, Ohio," Rachel's voice was flat. It was clear that she didn't regard anywhere in Ohio, let alone Lima, as any kind of desirable destination.

"Aye, it's central to a lot of things," Thom shot back. Truth be told, three days in he was already a little tired of the sleepy town, but he wouldn't hear his mother's choices discredited. "She has to travel a lot and Ohio's pretty well the same distance to anywhere. Los Angeles, DC, New York-"

"New York! Your mother goes to New York City for lectures?"

The young man broke off. The mention of New York had lit Rachel's face up like a beacon. It was a bit unnerving, to be honest. Thom shifted slightly away, stage right. Rachel reined herself back in.

"I'm sorry. I know my presence on and off stage is a little blinding sometimes. But so was yours, when you were singing. How long have you been performing?"

Thom bit his lip and glanced away. "Ah, I don't really."

"Really?" Rachel's voice was surprised and she frowned slightly. Then her expression cleared. "Oh well, just means we won't have any bad habits to break!" She glanced down at her watch and stood up, carefully rearranging her skirt.

"I'm thrilled that I got to meet you Thom, but this little chat has cost me ten minutes of my precious solo rehearsal time. You're welcome to stay and watch, but I need to get started. I can't wait for the rest of Glee to meet you though! Be in the choir room at 3PM this Thursday!" Rachel flashed her trademark 1000 watt smile at the Irish boy. She knew it was 1000 watts primarily because she had spent hours practicing it in the mirror. It dropped to around 999 watts at Thom's response.

"It was nice to meet you too, Rachel," Thom said sincerely. _Odd, but nice,_ he thought behind carefully cordial eyes. He reached out to give the girl a firm handshake. "But I don't think I'll be auditioning for your club. Thanks!" He turned around and hopped off the stage, landing with a loud thump and slight stagger. Behind him, he heard the click of Rachel's loafers as she walked to the edge of the stage.

"But why? You have such an incredible voice! Just picture it, you in front of thousands- well, dozens anyway- of people, all hanging on to your every note!" She sounded utterly bemused and a little annoyed. Thom didn't bother turning around to respond.

"It's, ah, just not really my thing," he called out, quickening his pace. He didn't really think she'd come running after him, but just in case… Thom reached the double doors with no flying tackle and gratefully pushed through them into the tiled fluorescence of McKinley High's hallways.

Behind him, Rachel Berry stood on the stage, frowning and hands firmly on her hips. That boy had stage presence, undeniable charisma, a fantastic voice…Glee club needed- what was his name? – Thom Keane. They needed a bass voice that would propel them to Nationals . And she, Rachel Berry, would make sure that they got him. Frown gone, smile fixed firmly in its place, Rachel stepped back and started a series of scales and arpeggios. In deference to her determination, she kept them in minor keys.

The harsh sharps and flats floated out to the otherwise silent hallway where Thom leaned on a bank of lockers, ironically similar to the notes that lured him into the auditorium to start with. He rubbed a hand over his already messy hair and trailed it along his face, ending with it pressed in the middle of his chest. His heart was pounding furiously and the tightness at the base of his throat was rapidly expanding. Thom willed himself to take slow, if not deep, breaths as he slid down to a seating position. His leather duster caught on one of the locks, forcing him to slip his left arm out of the sleeve before it immediately found its way back to his chest, pressing hard. With his right hand, he scrambled deep in the other pocket for the small plastic and metal cylinder that he never left home without. Finally, Thom's fingers closed around the inhaler and brought it to his mouth. He sucked greedily at the puff of medication.

Within seconds, the world expanded from the tiny circle of linoleum, jeans, and deep wheezes back to normal. Thom let his head fall back against the cold red metal doors and just stared at the ugly beige institutional ceiling floating above him. The worst of the attack over, he could feel red heat flooding his cheeks_. It never failed, _he groaned to himself.

Probably it had been the dusty theatre that triggered the breathing problems, but it was Rachel's unexpected appearance and subsequent declaration that Thom would be performing or she'd know why that really pushed it over the edge. Ironically for the son of a woman who gave mass lectures for a living, Thom had been cursed with crippling stage fright since he could remember, and asthma for even longer than that. He could dream all he wanted to about being the Big Band Revival, but it would always be just a dream. An impossible fantasy.

Thom stayed seated for a few minutes longer, making sure that he wasn't going to need another round before pushing himself upright. He felt a little wobbly, but nothing new there. The hallway had remained deserted throughout the episode, for which Thom was intensely grateful. He started off down the hall, Rachel's effortlessly_ there _voice still piercing through the cinderblocks to tease him with its twinned promise and threat of stardom.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thanks for reading! My co-author and I had great time dreaming up Thomas Keane and his story. If you hadn't guessed, we're Team Damian on The Glee Project But here's the thing- Thomas' story is still being written. Does he make to auditions? Does he require a little more prodding? Please help us out by leaving suggestions, criticisms, even praise if you feel like it in the reviews. Thanks again, and we really hope you enjoyed it!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

"_Buenos Dias!" _Mr. Schuester said, striding into his Level One Spanish with that eternally good natured smile plastered to his face. He walked to the front of the class and stood, beaming, every brown curl fairly radiating good humor, at a sea of singularly unimpressed adolescent faces.

"New vest, Mr. Schue?" came the good natured jibe from one of the students toward the back. Mr. Schuester grinned at the girl.

_Alice….something,_ he thought to himself before responding.

"Why, yes, Alice, it is," Schue replied. He glanced down approvingly at the pale green sweater vest. The saleslady had told him it brought out his eyes.

"And speaking of new things…" Mr. Schuester continued, looking back at his class, "I hope you all studied your new vocabulary list last night because we have a pop quiz!"

A collective groan went up from the thirty odd students, the most heartfelt of which came from Thomas Keane. The young man let his head sink into his hands while his mind furiously worked to remember what had been on their latest homework assignment. Two weeks into the most basic Spanish class that McKinley High had to offer and Thom was floundering. The class was predicated on the assumption that the students had been exposed to at least some Spanish. While that might have been true for the average McKinley teenager, it definitely wasn't true for Thom.

The irony of it all, Thom thought despairingly as the quizzes were handed back along his row, was that he was fully bilingual. His mother insisted that they speak Gaelic in the home to keep their heritage alive, and to keep her in practice. But Español? _No comprende._

For the next ten minutes the room was silent, with just scratching pencils and creaking desks audible. Thom stared at the five question quiz dotted with friendly smiley faces. Mr. Schuester believed in making examinations as non-threatening as possible. It wasn't working. Thom's mind stayed blank and so was the quiz he finally handed in.

The rest of the class dragged by in a series of skits, questions, and notes that were barely more than gibberish to Thom. Finally, the bell rang and he gratefully gathered up his books, ready to bolt out the door when Mr. Schuester's voice stopped him.

"Thom, do you have a minute?"

Thom froze and winced. He turned around to see Mr. Schuester leaning against the whiteboard, the very picture of a concerned educator. Thom wondered idly if he practiced the look.

"Uh, I have Pre-Calculus across the school in five minute," the young man tried hopefully, but Mr. Schue just shook his head.

"I'll write you a note. Come have a seat." Mr Schue moved behind his desk and motioned for Thom to make himself comfortable. Thom cast one longing glance at the stream of students laughing and chattering happily outside the door, but walked over to the desk in front of Mr. Schue. He slung his backpack down, then himself into the seat.

Mr. Schuester was silent for a minute at he looked at the young man in front of him. For all that Thom was clearly uncomfortable, he still managed to meet his Spanish teacher's eyes with a look of cautious respect, if not outright confidence. In a sharp blue button down and jeans, Thom's clean cut appearance was a far cry from the usual suspects Mr. Schue had to hold grade conferences with.

Mr. Schue rubbed a hand over his jaw while he thought.

"_What time is it?" _he asked suddenly, in Spanish. Thom started and stared at the man.

"_What street do you live on?" _Mr. Schue tried again. Again, a look of blank confusion.

"Right…" Mr. Schue sighed. He stood up suddenly and moved around to the front of the desk. He hopped up lightly and drummed his fingers on the desk.

"Thom, it's still early in the semester, but if you don't put forth at least an effort, you are not going to pass this class. I've talked with your other teachers. You're excelling in math and science, so clearly you're a hard worker, but I'm sensing a disconnect in this class. You know, I can see that before class you're talking and having fun, but as soon the bell rings, you just…stop. You won't answer questions in front of the class, your homework is, frankly, nonsense."

Mr. Schue stopped for a moment, trying not to let his frustration show. "What can I do to help?"

Thom looked at the earnest young teacher in front of him. He bit his lower lip slightly, shifting his gaze to the clock behind Mr. Schue. They were already five minutes into his favorite class. If he could just come up with some answer, he could be out of the hot seat and home free. Mrs. Majenski never required people to come up to the board to solver her notoriously difficult equations. Instead, she handed out individual whiteboards and let people put up the correct answers for themselves- which he almost always had. No eyes, no problem. That was an educational policy he could get behind.

"Thom?" Mr. Schue's voice broke through Thom's musings and he dragged his mind back to the present situation. Behind ice blue eyes, Thom's mind clicked into overdrive. How could he possibly explain that the thought of getting up and giving a presentation on "My Favorite Movie" in front of thirty pairs of eyes was enough to break out into a cold sweat? But confronted with Mr. Schue's pure earnestness… Thom opened his mouth, about to at least give it a try, but someone else got there first.

"Mr. Schue! I need to talk to you about rehearsal this afternoon!"

Two heads swiveled towards the door where Rachel Berry stood, clutching a sheaf of sheet music. Her eyes widened as she realized who Mr. Schue was having a conference with. In sharp contrast, Thom did everything he could to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. It didn't work.

"She found me…" Thom muttered to himself, disbelief evident in every syllable. Mr. Schuester raised his eyebrows questioningly, but again, Rachel beat him to the punch.

"Thom! Mr. Schue, this is Thomas Keane! This is that baritone I've been telling you about! Why didn't you tell me he was in your Spanish class?" Rachel strode in to the room, voice rising in pitch with excitement. Mr. Schuester looked from the leading female of Glee to the almost painfully shy boy in danger of failing his Spanish class. This was the superstar Rachel had been raving about?

"Uh, I didn't know," Mr. Schuester replied slowly. "Rachel, are you sure?"

Rachel nodded emphatically, black curls bouncing against pastel pink sweater clad shoulders. Mr. Schuester glanced again at the dark haired Irish boy. He was fixated on Rachel with an open expression of horror on his face. Mr. Schue had to work to suppress a smile. Rachel's tenacity could have that effect on people.

"Well, Thom? If you've managed to catch Rachel's attention, I guess we might be on to something. Tell you what, if you don't have anything planned for this afternoon, why don't you come down to Glee rehearsal, give us a couple bars, and we'll go from there? Maybe we'll even get you to sing something in Spanish. I might be persuaded to count that as extra credit." Mr. Schuester chuckled at his own wit and turned around to write Thom a pass to math class. Rachel beamed at teacher and student, confident that she had finally gotten her way. Thom merely gaped at Mr. Schue's back, trying to process what had just happened.

_Say something, you idiot! _He yelled in his head. _Make something up, tell him you've got to…pluck your ears this afternoon, anything! _

"Uh," Thom finally managed weakly, and was immediately disgusted with himself. He had never been much of a liar either. His noncommittal noise apparently registered as an affirmative for Mr. Schue and Rachel. His Spanish teacher pressed a pass into his hand and steered him towards the door with a friendlier smile than Thom had seen during any of his mangled Spanish conversations.

"See you at 3 in the choir room!" Rachel called out cheerfully. Thom didn't look back, less out of pique and more out an overwhelming paralysis that settled over him as he realized what exactly he had managed to _not _wiggle out of.

_An audition. In front of people. _His thoughts seemed trapped in an endless loop and the rest of the day rushed by in strange lumps of time. It seemed like he had barely sat down in one class before the bell rang. The idea of a strategic getaway kept floating to the forefront of his mind, but it was always tempered by Mr. Schue's tantalizing suggestion of extra credit.

By English class Thom had settled into a false sense of bravado_. How hard could singing in front of 11 people be_? In study hall, he stared despondently at a wall. _I'm going to die in front of an audience_. Finally, in Biology, he had settled on a macabre middle ground.

_If I do die, _while staring at a series of slides on earthquakes. It seemed appropriate. _If I do die, neither Spanish or Glee will be a problem anymore, so that's alright. _

Finally, at 2:45 PM, the lights came on, the bell rang, and Thom took a deep breath. He stood up and walked towards the door. It was decided. He'd peek out, then bolt. Alright, hall was clear. He just had to make it to the school's main lobby, then out the front doors. Surely there were other ways to earn extra credit, and it wasn't really chickening out, it was simple self preservation, evolution, survival of the…damn.

Thom came to a sudden halt. In front of the double doors, those sweet portals to safety and dignity, were a group of kids that he vaguely recognized as being in Glee club, and one gothic Asian girl he definitely knew was in Glee. Thom started walking again, trying to look nonchalant. Tina hadn't mentioned anything about Glee in English today. Maybe Rachel hadn't told her anything. Or maybe not. Tina's face lit up with recognition as Thom got closer.

"Hey, Thom!" she called, waving a hand with electric blue nail polish today. In the silence of the empty hallway, there was no way to pretend he hadn't heard. Thom offered up a weak smile as the group as a whole shifted to intercept him. Tina smiled, looking more animated than she ever did during a discussion of J.D. Salinger's imagery.

"Rachel just told me that you were coming to audition for a spot in Glee Club this afternoon! I had no idea you could sing!" Tina said, faintly accusing beneath her smile. Thom grinned back weakly. At the very least, let it never be said that Thom Keane couldn't talk to the ladies.

"Well, Rachel seems like she gets a little carried away sometimes," Thom responded. A large black girl snorted appreciatively at the comment.

"You have no idea," the girl said. "C'mon kid, we're headed to the choir room anyway. My name's Mercedes, who are you?"

It took the next few minutes before the little group arrived at the choir room to give introductions all around. Frankly, Thom was amazed at how calm he felt. He even mustered up a few winks for the two girls in the group. The tiny bubble of hope lasted all the way through the door into the choir room.

Rachel spotted him immediately and broke away from her discussion with the piano player in mid sentence, if the miffed look on the man's face was any indication. She fairly danced up to him, a smug smile on her face.

"I knew you'd come. The lure of stardom is too much for any really talented performer to resist, no matter what flimsy excuses or avoidances they might try to hide behind."

Rachel was apparently too wrapped up in her visions of grandeur to register the pained expression on Thom's face. He barely felt her light touch on his arm as she steered him into the center of the room. All he could see were faces gradually turning his way. With a tiny puff of despair, the bubble of hope expired quietly. Thom could feel his breath coming a little harder.

"Glee Club, Mr. Schuester, Accompaniment," Rachel addressed herself to each part of Glee Club's performance, "This is Thomas Keane. he has the most incredible baritenor voice – Puck, you should probably be concerned- that will be a great counterpoint to our female heavy sound right now. He's also joining us from Ireland, so that will get the foreign vote at Sectionals-"

A Latina girl up front laughed humorluessly and interrupted. "Foreign vote? We're performing for like three people, not running for president."

The blonde girl next to her immediately looked distressed. "Is this going to affect Lord Tubbington's election?"

Rachel cleared her throat loudly and glared at the commentators. After a few giggles and whispers, silence more or less reigned. Her grip on Thom's arm tightened slightly before she replaced the smile. She turned to face Thom, reading his wide eyes as excitement rather than nerves.

"Just do what you did last week. You'll be great," she said quietly, clearly meaning to be reassuring rather than condescending. Thom managed a jerky nod. The older girl gave Thom one last quick pat before calling out to the piano player on her way to her seat.

"Nightingale!" The first few chords rang out. Thom swallowed against a dry mouth, heart clattering furiously. A part of him still clung stubbornly to rationality. There was no reason to be frightened of a few notes, he told himself as he absently clenched the blue cuffs of his slightly oversized shirt. No reason. And yet…

The piano arrived at his entrance and Thom remained silent, acutely conscious of the expectance silence directed at him. There was a pause, and the intro started again. This time Thom managed to get his mouth open, but no sound came out. The atmosphere in the room was shifting from anticipation to confusion as people started to move in their seats and whisper to each other. Several people looked over at Rachel skeptically. She ignored them and focused her concentration on Thom. Among the sea of rapid disinterest, Rachel's annoyed stare stood out like a beacon. With superhuman effort, Thom tore his gaze from the audience and fixed it firmly on his shoes, concentrating on keeping his breathing slow and steady.

Mr. Schuester's expression had moved from delighted expectation to confusion, to concern at Thom's attempts. The confident young man who had entered the room had been replaced by the same shy boy he knew from Spanish class. Will Schuester hadn't been a performer for years without seeing his fair share of stage fright- and the Irish boy clearly had a wicked case. With a mental note to reevaluate Thom's participation in his class, Mr. Schue stood and walked over to Thom. Up close, his pale face and trembling hands made him the very picture of pathos, and Mr. Schue put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. Thom flicked his blue eyes up and away, just enough to acknowledge Mr. Schue's presence.

"Hey, performing cold in front of strangers is hard even for pros. Why don't we just run rehearsal with you over by Puck- the one with the mohawk, he's a bass-so you can get your bearings? We can try again next practice once you've gotten a little more comfortable, OK?"

Thom looked up again and managed a half smile of assent this time before looking away again. He could feel the telltale red flush working its way up his neck and into his cheeks. _Geez. _Mr. Schue gave him an encouraging smile, and turned back to the Glee Club.

"OK guys, let's run Finn's number!"

Before he knew it, Thom found himself in between the tough looking guy with a mohawk and Tina from English class. Yeah, high school was _nothing _like the American TV shows.

With the focus off him, Thom could focus on breathing enough to get himself back under control. By the end of the ninety minute rehearsal, he could even almost say he had enjoyed himself, swaying more or less unnoticed in the background. In fact, when Finn launched into one of his many attempts at a solo, Thom caught himself mouthing the words.

_I could do that_, Thom thought despairingly. _I would give anything to do it in front of people, but I _know_ that I can. _Frankly, Thom thought that Rachel did at least have a point in targeting another male singer. It was just a shame that she had so badly misjudged him. Thom smiled a little at the absurdity of the thought. Tina looked over and caught the happy expression on the young man's face, and smiled encouragingly back.

"Feeling better?" she whispered. Thom shrugged and nodded.

"Couldn't be feeling much worse," he said back, the smile taking some of the sting of truth out of the words.

"Solos aren't for everyone," Tina continued earnestly. "At least not right away. But we could still really use another guy voice and you could just take your time-"

Thom shook his head. "Thanks, Tina, but I really-"

"Ah-hem!"

Thom and Tina looked up to see an irate Rachel looking pointedly at them.

"If you've quite finished using our practice time as your own private salon, we only have five minutes left and I, at least, would like to make it worth something," she said coolly. Tina giggled, but subsided into silence. Thom held out his hands, palm up, and offered a sheepish grin. Rachel just shook her head, shooting daggers at Thom, and moved back to her place beside Finn.

One substandard duet later, practice was over. Thom made all the right noises at the people he had met in practice. They seemed like genuinely nice people and he hoped he'd have a chance to see at least some of them in class. Waving goodbye to Mercedes, a frilly pink thing suddenly filled his vision.

"I hope you realize just how far behind your little antics put us," Rachel said. No trace of the friendly girl from the theatre remained. "We can't afford diva histrionics. Next practice, I really hope you will have pulled yourself together –"

"Next practice?" Thom interrupted incredulously. A surge of unexpectedly strong anger tinged with, surprisingly, a little fear, washed over him. There was no reason this little girl in a frilly pink concototion should inspire _fear_, but there it was. Still, buoyed by righteous indignation, he carried on.

"If you had given me a chance to talk at all last week, I would have explained that I can't sing in front of people, I've never been able to , and I never will. This is has been a fun afternoon, thank you and I'll see you around."

He stepped smartly around Rachel, effectively ending the conversation. Thom strode furiously through the door, mind reeling with how utterly ridiculous this situation was. By the time he was halfway down the hall, he had collected himself enough to realize that behind the steady thump of his trainers, there was another set of footsteps coming at double tempo. He pulled up short and groaned audibly when the second pair of shoes stopped too. Running a hand through his hair in exasperation, he turned around and nearly ran into Rachel, looking as implausibly immobile as a boulder.

"What are you doing," Thom demanded. His hair was sticking up after he had run his hand through it, and the wild angles combined with blue eyes shooting daggers to rival Rachel's own, lent him a startlingly intense look. Rachel appeared utterly unfazed. She merely crossed her arms tighter.

"Following you. My dance class starts at 7PM, so I can pencil in the next three hours to convince you to join."

Thom's eyes widened and he made an involuntary garbled sound of amusement and disgust.

"You… Do you listen, at all, to anything that's not your own voice? I _don't_ sing because I _can't_ sing in front of people. End of story!"

Rachel merely tightened her mouth and raised an eyebrow. Thom raised his eyes to the heavens. He was caught in a bad TV show, wasn't he? Avoiding looking at Rachel, he turned around and started walking quickly towards the doors. The double time quickly settled in. Without slowing his pace or turning around, Thom announced to the empty hallway in front of him.

"I'm going _home." _The proclamation was met with silence. 

The thick silence lasted nearly the entire way to Thom's new house in the suburbs of Lima. When they boarded the wheezing, foul smelling public bus, Rachel wrinkled her nose and looked like she was about to speak, but managed to hold it in. In fact, the silence was broken only once, and that was by Thom.

Halfway through the ride, Thom suddenly turned to Rachel.

"Why do you care so much if _I _join your Glee club?"

Rachel flicked her dark brown eyes over at Thom's exasperated blue ones, and then back ahead. She was clearly deep in thought. For a few moments, the persona that Rachel had built for herself was dropped and a high school girl, desperate for something to make her _someone_, sat in her place. It was a startling change. Thom felt like he could be sorry for this girl, if not for the woman she was trying to desperately to be.

"I want to win," she said finally. Simply. Her eyes looked unfocused, like she was dredging the answer up from somewhere beyond herself. "We desperately need a baritone soloist to give us an edge at Regionals, let alone Nationals. If you can present me with another voice equal to yours, I'll leave you alone. But until then, you have become my personal crusade." With the last sentence, her eyes snapped back into focus and she sent Thom a dazzling smile. Rachel Berry was back. Thom opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then just groaned and gave up. He slumped back into his seat. Stony silence reigned for the rest of the trip.

Finally, thankfully, the interminable bus ride did end and the creaky old Route 34 deposited its two passengers at a suburb so new that it still felt raw. Thom raised an incredulous eyebrow at Rachel who managed to give the impression that she had no idea he was there even as she followed a scant few feet behind him all the way down the street, up his driveway and through the front door. He shook his head slightly. You had to admire that kind of dedication, even if it did border on insanity.

Thom pushed the white door open, narrowly missing a teetering pile of empty cardboard boxes. The contents of the boxes were scattered haphazardly over the typically small entryway- a pile of dishes on the stairs, topped with a quizzical cow figurine, and more books than could be counted.

"_Dia duit, Thom! Cad é mar a bhí do lá?" _chirped a female voice from behind another mountain of boxes a little farther away. Rachel frowned slightly at the unfamiliar language. Thom took a certain tiny evil pleasure in seeing Rachel out of her element, but switched to English in deference to his unplanned guest.

"My day was fine, Mama," Thom said, with a slightly thicker brogue than Rachel was used to hearing at school.

The owner of the voice popped a head of wildly curly brown hair out from behind the mound. Blue eyes identical to her son's widened as she took in a beaming Rachel just behind her thunderous looking son. Mary Katherine Keaton quirked an eyebrow at Thom, deepening the family resemblance, but he just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know we were expecting company," Kady Keane said, in English this time, straightening up and dusting her hands off. Fully erect, she was still a petite woman, but she fairly crackled with energy. She stuck her hand out to Rachel with a smile.

"Hello, I'm Thom's mother, Mary Katherine Keane, but that's a bit of a mouthful. You can call me Kady, or Mrs. Keane, whichever you prefer, Miss…?" she trailed off, looking expectant.

Rachel, looking absolutely fascinated, jumped in.

"Rachel Berry," she said, slipping seamlessly into star mode and grasping Mrs. Keane's hand warmly. Anything was practice for an interview on the red carpet, even a dusty suburban house in the middle of Ohio.

"Well, it's a pleasure Rachel. So do you two, ah, know each other from school? You have a class together, maybe?"

Rachel beamed. Excellent, the perfect opening.

"Actually, Mrs. Keane, our connection is deeper than superficial academia. Thom is my new duet partner for Glee Club. Your son is quite talented, you know. That sort of potential should absolutely be encouraged wherever it's found." Rachel offered up a dazzling smile to underline her point.

Kady's eyebrows shot up again. It was clear that blue eyes weren't all Kady Keane had given her son- absurdly expressive eyebrows seemed to run in the family too. Kady glanced over incredulously at her notoriously shy son, who was studying the ceiling with the utmost concentration. She looked back at Rachel's perfectly innocent face. She blinked a few timse to compose herself and smiled hesitantly.

"Ah," she said slowly. "I can't wait to hear all about that. Will you be joining us for dinner?"

Rachel shook her head. "Thank you, Mrs. Keane, but I have a lead role in my upcoming dance recital. I'm needed at the school. It was lovely to meet you and your house is charming. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Thom!"

She waved at the young man, who resolutely refused to look at her, then at his mother. Kady managed a smile and a wave as Rachel pivoted and marched out the door. For a few seconds, the only sounds were clanging pots and pans from the kitchen where Thomas Keane, Sr. was practicing his trade.

"_Well, she's cute, anyway" _Kady said finally, in Gaelic again. She couldn't help grinning at Thom's consternation. "_But duet partner? What's all that, then?"_

Thom gave her a haunted look and just shook his head. "_Don't ask," _he said shortly.

Kady raised her hands in surrender, but still kept the teasing look. "_Alright, well, grab a box anyway."_

As Thom hoisted the nearest box and paid half-hearted attention to his mother's stream of news, he kept seeing Rachel's determined face in his mind. She had sworn she was going to get him in Glee Club. And God help him, with a cold shiver running down his back, Thom was finally beginning to believe the girl was serious.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day dawned gray and gloomy over Lima, Ohio. Thomas Keane managed to crack an eye open at his alarm's shrill beeps, but decided that as dark as it was, it must have malfunctioned. He gave the cheery little orange clock a halfhearted swat and rolled over.

Twenty minutes later, Thom got a much less cheerful wake up call.

"_Thom! If you don't get up and get out in the next ten minutes, you're walking to school!"_

That did it. Zero to sixty in twenty seconds, Thom was up and pulling on clothes after a cursory sniff to make sure that they were, if not shower fresh, at least inoffensive. A quick glance in the mirror, a blue-eyed wink under literal bed head, and the young man was out the door. Thom shivered and glanced up apprehensively at the steel gray sky. He didn't recall hearing anything about rain on the weather forecast, but maybe running back in to get an umbrella wouldn't be a bad idea. The umbrella would have to wait though, as the dirty old bus rumbled up to the stop. Thom quickened his pace and hopped on the bus just as the sky rumbled and opened up in torrential rain.

"Great…" Thom sighed to himself as he settled in for the ride. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a beat up old mp3 player and headphones. With the smooth sounds of Sinatra washing over him, he sank into a happy reverie that lasted all the way to the stop closest to the school. As the bus groaned to a stop, Thom was jolted out of his pleasant daydreams by an eye-wateringly bright green splash of color waiting at the bus stop. He frowned, blinked, and through the mist resolved the already too-familiar face of one Miss Rachel Berry. She caught sight of Thom's slack jawed stare through the window and waved cheerfully. Thom dutifully waggled one hand back in an approximation of a wave.

"Good morning, Thom!" Rachel said as he walked cautiously off the bus. The cold drizzle didn't seem to faze her at all.

"Uh, good morning," Thom said, glancing around to see if anyone he knew was watching. Mercifully, the group was mostly older commuters. He took another long look at Rachel's neon green plastic ensemble. On closer inspection, a pair of eyes poked up from the hood.

"Rachel…does your jacket have a _frog _on it?" Thom asked incredulously. Rachel smiled and preened at the comment.

"It does! My dads and I found it at this precious little boutique over the summer. I've just been waiting for a day like this to wear it. I feel like it really brightens up someone's day, to see a frog smiling at them."

Thom nodded slowly and raised an eyebrow. "Aye, it's certainly bright." An involuntary shiver ran down his back. It really was chilly out, surprising for only mid-September. Rachel noticed and made a sudden sound of remembrance.

"Oh, yeah, this is for you!" She thrust a steaming plastic travel mug with a pink sparkly "Believe!" penciled on it, surrounded by gold stars at Thom. He grabbed it by reflex and then immediately wished he hadn't. He held it a little ways away from his body, very gingerly like it might explode.

Rachel started walking towards the school, clearly intending for Thom to follow. After a beat, he followed. Without really thinking, he raised to the mug to his lips and took a sip. It took every ounce of will in his body to not spray the steaming liquid out over the sidewalk. With iron resolve he managed to gulp the stuff down and asked Rachel, in a slightly strangled voice, "Wha- What _is _this stuff?"

"It's an herbal blend of supplements that I had commissioned for myself. It gives you all the kick of caffeine, without any of the ill effects. A performer needs to be on her- or his- toes all the time."

"What, do you expect to be attacked or something?" Thom shot back. Rachel didn't bother slowing down, but did grant Thom a disapproving look over her staccato steps. The young man simply grinned back and shrugged. The smile changed abruptly to a thoughtful frown as the unlikely pair came into sight of McKinley High School.

"How did you even know to meet me at the public bus stop, then?" Thom asked, a little worried but genuinely curious. Rachel possessed a dogged determination that required equal parts caution and admiration.

"You went home on a public bus yesterday," she said, managing to sound patronizing and exasperated even under a neon green frog face. "It wasn't that difficult. Drink your tea."

Thom frowned down at the pink mug and its inescapable odor. A tiny part of him did think that showing up with a hot drink on a cold day was sweet, even it did toe the line into a little obsessed. He cleared his throat, casting around for a change of subject.

"Oh that. Thanks. So, uh, how was your dance thing yesterday?" he asked. That did the trick. Rachel's face lit up and she launched into a detailed diatribe about her proposal to change the red lighting scheme to a more yellow one to harmonize with something, something…Thom stayed alert just long enough to dump the mug's contents into a nearby bush and then proceeded to glaze over the rest of the cold, drizzly way into the school building.

They climbed the steps and entered the blessedly warmer school just as Rachel was winding up her arguments for yellow lighting and starting in on why blue lighting would have been second best.

"Haha, get 'em!"

As Thom stepped over the threshold, for a millisecond he thought Rachel's storytelling had just ratcheted up several hundred notches. All he could see was blue. In the next breath, icy and blue raspberry flavored, the realization hit him. He stood stock still. Thom forced his eyes open, ignoring the burning sensation of 24 ounces of high fructose corn syrup sliding in his eyes. He could just make out several huge, red, fuzzy shapes through the blue haze, and he could certainly hear them.

"Ha, nice change to give someone new a blue face!"

"Sure deserved it-"

"Man, maybe this'll keep you away from my girl now, with your stupid prissy accent!"

"Got another Glee dork!"

The last comment penetrated the paralysis that Thom seemed to be locked in. Blindly, without thinking or even bothering to wipe the slushie from his face, he started to lunge toward the direction of the "Glee" commenter, but a sudden weight on his arm pulled him back before he had a chance. The red shapes didn't even notice his movement and moved off down the hall, still laughing and throwing monosyllabic taunts over their shoulder. Now almost shaking with cold and fury, Thom glanced over at the weight on his arm. Although he still couldn't see quite well enough to recognize the face, that neon green was unmistakable. With no warning, Thom's anger redirected itself at Rachel.

He jerked his arm away. "What. The. _HELL?" _he sputtered, finally finding his voice. He lifted his arm to rub his eyes, but the leather was equally drenched in icy blue liquid. Furiously, he tore it off and wadded the leather up. He scrubbed at his face with his T-shirt sleeve and then lowered it to glower at Rachel. She looked upset, but the only evidence of attack was a small blue splotch on her sleeve. Rachel looked at where he was staring and winced.

"I'm so sorry, I really think that one of those was supposed to be for me. I've just gotten really good at avoiding them and…well, I'm so sorry, let's see if we can't just get you cleaned off-"

"Oh, glad to see I got most of it for you," Thom said sarcastically, before the full impact of Rachel's nervous apology caught up to him. "Wait. What do you mean you've gotten _good _at avoiding these…whatever _that_ was?"

The older girl's discomfort was now fully evident. She bit her lip for a second before responding. "Being slushied…it's kind of an occupational hazard of Glee club. Of stardom!"

The last was shouted at Thom's back. He whirled around and stalked down the hall to the nearest men's room. Rachel hurried to catch up with him and managed to put a hand on his shoulder before he reached the restroom. All traces of the blue-eyed Irish charmer were gone, replaced by a furious and hurt young man. He jerked his shoulder away.

"What did I ever do to you, hmm?" he demanded, ignoring the stares coming their way. _Oh sure, _he thought sourly. _Throw a frozen drink on a bloke's head and just keep walking. But have a few words and suddenly everyone's interested! _He turned his attention back to Rachel. She looked utterly distraught.

"You shove me into your club, that I never asked to join, and one of the _perks_ is getting a slushy to the face? To hell with this!" Thom pushed his way into the empty men's room. For a second he thought that Rachel might come trundling in after him, but thankfully, the tiled room stayed silent.

Thom took a deep breath and turned to the mirror to assess the damage. He couldn't help groaning at the sight. His face was dripping bright blue, no denying it. A huge green splotch took up most of what used to be a yellow T-shirt. He shook out the sticky mess of his leather jacket. It might be salvageable. Assuming he managed to avoid any further slushie attacks. The absurdity of his situation hit home as he locked eyes with his furious, and furiously blue, reflection in the mirror. He braced himself on the sink and just stood, torn between laughter and tears.

The debate ended when he heard the restroom door open. Thom straightened up, running a hand over his face. In the mirror, Thom could see the boy was laughing at someone or something outside as he backed in. When the tall boy turned around, Thom realized with a start that it was the football player from Glee. The boy's smile dropped as he took in Thom's blue face and sopping wet shirt. He glanced back to the door, and then back at Thom. The gears in his mind were visibly turning as he made the connection.

"Oh," he said, with dawning realization. "You were just with Rachel, weren't you?"

Thom raised an eyebrow at the reflection and nodded. It was the best he could come up with.

The boy winced, but whether it was sympathetic or repulsed was hard to tell.

"Hey man, I'm sorry," the dark-haired boy said, walking over to stand next to Thom. "I didn't catch your name yesterday in Glee- I'm Finn, by the way- but you must be the Thom that Rachel was freaking out about outside. "

Thom mustered up the second eyebrow to join the first. Finn grinned halfheartedly.

"Yeah, I guess at this point we just kind of consider them occupational-"

"Hazards?" Thom finished. He turned from Finn's reflection to face him head on. "Yeah, so I've heard." He reached past the boy to grab a handful of paper towels and started to blot his shirt.

Finn shook his head. "Not gonna work, man. That shirt's done for. Listen, I keep some spare clothes in my locker. Maybe you should borrow one?"

Thom looked at himself, then up at the boy who towered over him. One of Finn's shirts would be like a dress. But, as he considered spending the day in a cold, wet, sticky shirt, he decided maybe drag wouldn't be so bad. He grinned. A chunk of ice fell from his hair into his ear, but he steadfastly ignored it.

"That'd be fantastic, thanks. Finn, right?"

Finn nodded and smiled back, then suddenly frowned. He bit his lip, then burst into a question.

"Listen, so you and Rachel, she's kind of been talking about you a lot, and not that I don't trust her or think you're honorable or whatever, it's just that, we've had some problems and….there's not anything going on, is there dude? Man to man?" Finn looked incredibly earnest and incredibly uncomfortable. In the resulting silence, the bathroom door opened, but Finn sent the intruder a glare that sent him scurrying.

Thom finished rinsing his face off in the dirty white sink and blinked red eyes still ringed with stubborn blue up at Finn's good-natured face, now wrinkled in concern.

"Do you two have a…thing?" Thom asked cautiously, straightening up.

Finn hemmed and hawed for a minute, then replied with honest confusion. "I don't really know. I mean, during the summer things were great. Then some…stuff happened, and I just, I dunno. We didn't really talk."

It was right on the tip of Thom's tongue. He could hear himself answering, with a vehemence that would have surprised him, had he actually responded. _No way,_ he shouted in his head. _There's nothing going on! And won't ever be! If this is what her _friends_ deal with, having a "thing" with her would be suicide!_

But somehow, when he opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was a carefully offhand "Sure."

But even as the word slipped out, Thom found himself wondering just what he had agreed to. Or carefully avoided agreeing to. Clearly, Finn didn't see any trace of the confusion in Thom's face because his own face split into a broad grin. The football player turned Glee star clapped Thom firmly on the back. Thom was suddenly very glad that he was holding on to the sink- he wasn't sure he could have stayed standing up.

"Thanks man! Listen, lemme go grab that shirt. I'll be back in a minute," Finn called over his shoulder, already on his way out. The door swung shut behind him before Thom even had a chance to respond. He turned back to his reflection in the mirror. Blue eyed, bedraggled, and more than a little wary. Slowly, he shook his head at himself.

"Oh no, Tommy boy," he said out loud, the bathroom tiles echoing and amplifying the Irish brogue. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."


	4. Chapter 4

No sooner had Thom's voice faded from the room than Finn burst back in with a wrinkled, but mercifully dry, shirt. He tossed it at Thom with a grin and a playful punch on the shoulder before the warning bell for first period sent him back out.

"Catch ya at Glee!" Finn called. Thom gave a halfhearted wave, wincing as he lifted the arm Finn had just love-tapped, as it were.

_Some school this is. Enemies throw slushies at your face and friends leave bruises, _he thought wryly to himself as he peeled his own wet T-shirt off. He regarded it for a minute, then shrugged and tossed it in the trash can. No point in carrying it around all day. He pulled on Finn's T-shirt. As he suspected, it hung like a sack, but there wasn't any point in feeling self-conscious about it. It was that or spend the day half naked. Thom couldn't help but chuckle a little at his reflection - hair sticking out at wild angles, blue splotches, and a shirt that might as well be a dress. The little laugh helped ease some of the tension and anger that still smoldered. He wasn't anything like unaffected, but the boy had a naturally easygoing personality.

With a little of his good humor restored, Rachel's stricken face suddenly popped into Thom's head. Along with it came a sudden wash of guilt. She hadn't deserved his furious reaction; she had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now with a faint red flush underscoring his blue cheeks, Thom grabbed his bag and headed for the door just as the minute bell to classes sounded, intending to catch Rachel and apologize. But as he stepped out into the hall, the older girl was nowhere to be found. Thom scanned the rush of people hurrying to class, but didn't see any flash of neon green.

Thom bit his lip, looked around once more and then joined the mass of students pressing into classrooms, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. _She must just not have wanted to be late,_ he told himself sternly. He arrived at English just in time for Tina to give him a sympathetic, knowing look before the lecture started. Her ready, silent, acceptance of Thom's faintly blue and bedraggled appearance only strengthened his resolve. He'd stop off at Glee just long enough to give Rachel a cool apology for shouting at her and then he was _gone. _There would be no convincing this time around. The finality of his decision made him smile slightly as he settled into his molded plastic desk.

The rest of the day was, mercifully, slushie free. By lunchtime, Thom had stopped flinching at sudden movements and story of the frozen concoction attack had escalated into epic proportions that sent his friends into peals of laughter. By the end of the day, Thom was feeling quite generous and more than a little sorry for Rachel. It wasn't her fault that she had such poor judgment as to pick an asthmatic foreigner prone to panic attacks for her singing club. His expansive generosity didn't quite extend to promptness, however, and he lingered with a pretty blonde from his biology class after the dismissal bell rang. Lisa was prone to giggling fits, but he felt sure he could overlook that.

_It's just a shame her eyes weren't a darker brown, _he thought to himself after they finally said good-bye. _Deeper, more passionate maybe. _He felt sure that he had seen eyes like that recently, but before he could quite figure out who they belonged to, he arrived at the choir room. Practice had already started, so Thom leaned on the doorframe, watching the chaotic movement inside. As always, a tiny part of him demanded that he be the one in the spotlight, singing for the joy of it, but the usual fear that quenched it was doubled by the memory of today's slushie. Still, he couldn't help but be drawn to the passion of expression, of performance that the Glee Club gave off. At the moment, they were rehearsing Finn and Rachel's duet. Objectively, Thom had to admit that Finn was technically inferior to Rachel. His voice wasn't as strong and he danced about as well as Thom himself. But the intensity that radiated from the young man was powerful. In fact, Thom suspected that Finn wasn't acting the lyrics about love as much as he was living them.

Thom hummed the few snatches of melody that he remembered from his first – and last- rehearsal before he caught himself.

_None of that, _he chided silently. With one final twirl, Rachel and Finn harmonized into a more or less smooth ending. _It's not as if you could be singing in front of strangers yourself, now is it? _

"Alright guys!" Mr. Schuester said enthusiastically from where he had been observing. "A little sharp on the end, Finn, but we've got time. Take five, guys, and then let's try that number Kurt suggested. Sound good?"

A general murmur of assent responded. It quickly grew into a swell of voices and laughter as smaller groups formed. Finn gave Rachel another, flirtatious twirl. Her eyes lighted on Thom standing awkwardly in the doorway halfway through the spin and an expression of relief flitted across her face before it was replaced by annoyance. Rachel disentangled herself from Finn's embrace and strode over to Thom, dragging Finn absentmindedly behind her. She came to an abrupt stop and snapped her arms across her chest.

"Better late than never, I guess," she said, with a nod that sent today's green hairbow fluttering. "I'm glad to see you're recovered from… from this morning, though."

"Sweet shirt, man," Finn jumped in. Thom grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"Moving up in the world. I've gone from being the fellow with the accent to the fellow with a dress." Thom laughed as he said it, clearly joking, but Rachel's stricken face silenced both boys quickly.

"It's a joke, Rach" Finn said, patting Rachel on the shoulder. She flashed Thom a concerned look. He raised an eyebrow and nodded, trying to maintain a serious expression.

"Oh," she said doubtfully. She plastered a smile on her face and forced a laugh. "Dress, right, that's hilarious. Anyway, Thom, you really need to go ahead and audition today. Despite my stellar recruitment record-"

"Crack house," muttered Finn. Rachel shot him a murderous glare and Thom followed up with a surprised, questioning one. Finn raised his hands in surrender. "Just sayin'," he said defensively.

"As I was saying, despite my _practically _perfect recruitment record, my fellow Glee club members insist that you audition. And I must say, I agree with them. Until you've proven that you are a talent to be reckoned with, you need to follow all the rules, including showing up on time. You're probably a little traumatized still, so I suppose we can let it-"

"Rachel!" Thom finally said, nearly shouting. His other attempts at breaking into Rachel's monologue had failed. The girl didn't notice anything once her own voice got going. "Please, for the last time, I'm not joining Glee!"

Rachel blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Then…why are you here?" She gestured vaguely at the room behind her. "This is _Glee Club_."

"I just wanted to apologize," Thom said, in the same slightly patronizing tone Rachel had just used. He immediately felt slightly ashamed, but this girl with her crazy outfits and crazier ideas had a knack for sending his blood pressure- to say nothing of his heart rate- sky rocketing. He continued, making an effort to stay civil.

"You didn't deserve to be yelled at this morning. I was…caught off guard. And thanks for meeting me this morning," he added as an afterthought. Rachel's hard expression softened somewhat at the thank you. She opened her mouth to jump in, but Thom got there first.

"But really and truly, I cannot join your club. I can't handle singing in front of people and I surely can't handle a repeat of this morning. Thanks. And I'm sorry again," Thom finished. He gave Finn a nod. "I'll wash the shirt and give it to Tina tomorrow to return to you. Thanks, man." Finn frowned slightly, clearly confused as to exactly what was happening.

Rachel, however, was not giving up without a fight. Without taking her eyes off Thom, she placed a firm hand on Finn's shoulder. "Finn, will you excuse for a moment?" She pressed slightly on his shoulder, leaving no doubt in the tall boy's mind that she was serious.

"Umm, sure," Finn said, looking at Rachel's stormy countenance and Thom's unreadable one. As he reluctantly turned to go, he was aware of an uneasy sensation in his chest. He pushed it determinedly aside. Nothing to worry about, surely.

Rachel watched Finn's receding back, counting silently to ten before she snapped back around to face Thom. The faint smile she had unconsciously worn with Finn had been replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

"Alright, let's try this again." Rachel was clearly trying for a winning, soothing tone, but despite dozens of stage productions, it still sounded like it was forced through clenched teeth. Thom took a few deep breaths of his own.

"I don't know how I can make it any clearer," the young man sighed. "I won't join Glee. It's not possible."

"A minute ago you said 'can't'. Can't or won't?" Rachel demanded, arms crossed and gaze piercing.

Thom rolled his own eyes in exasperation. "Either, or, both! I just came to say I was sorry for yelling at you. You didn't throw the slushy- even if you were the reason."

Rachel took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. "I won't deny that my request for you to join Glee Club and your subsequent participation may have prompted this morning's unfortunate event. But I just don't understand. We've _all _been slushied. Kurt has lost more designer clothing in the dumpster than the rest of us own put together. We can help you handle it. I _saw _you, Thom, I _heard _you!"

Rachel's grasp on her temper was becoming more tenuous as she went on. The vision of herself taking the trophy at Nationals was becoming fainter the longer Thom just looked at her with those hard blue eyes. She tried a different tactic.

"I'm a star, Thom. I need to shine. I need to _prove_ that I can shine. I have barely a year left to leave a legacy at McKinley and the only way that I – that any of us- have a hope of being recognized for anything other than freaks and antisocial losers is placing at Nationals. I have a better than average chance on my own of doing great things, but, as much as I hate to admit it, other Glee clubs will have full complements of star singers. We have our own…strengths, but we can't afford to leave any holes." The admissions of inadequacy were clearly costing Rachel everything she had, but she forged on.

"You aren't a guarantee of winning, but if I don't at least try, we lose. I've - we've worked so hard the last few years. "

Rachel dropped her gaze for a moment before locking eyes again with Thom, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. Like on the bus, Rachel's carefully constructed and maintained façade was crumbling and the raw passion and earnestness that fueled her was coming through. At the moment, she looked less like a drill sergeant and more like a desperate little girl.

Thom sighed and ran a hand across his jaw before responding.

"I really am sorry," he said finally, in a voice so low that Rachel had to lean in slightly, closing an already small gap. "But I just…I _can't."_

"Yes, you _can." _Rachel's voice was calmer, more controlled, but lost none of its intensity. She appraised the boy in front of her. Thom's face was paler than usual, blue eyes haunted and refusing to look at her. On impulse, she grabbed his hand and gently pulled him to a chair by the door. His eyes widened and he stared at the small, tanned hand encircling his pale, square one.

"Look at me." Rachel's voice was still quiet, barely audible over the hum of the other students, but Thom heard it like a shout. He flicked his eyes up to meet Rachel's and they held there.

"No one is looking at you. Even if they look over, they're looking at me."

Thom couldn't help a smile. It was kind of Rachel to make a joke to lighten the situation. At least, he thought it was a joke.

"_That certain night, that night we met," _Rachel sang quietly, keeping her gaze fixed on Thom. She trailed off, looking expectant. Thom shook his head, going a little paler still. He darted his eyes over to the Glee members. The couple was starting to draw a few curious glances. Thom felt his breath catch and looked determinedly back at Rachel. She smiled encouragingly at him.

"Just try. Look at me. _That certain night, that night we met…"_

"_There was…magic…" _Thom managed to get out, barely audibly. He coughed. Rachel frowned, but a slight pressure from Thom's hand kept her silent for a moment more. He took a deep breath, ignoring the slight tightness in his lungs.

"_There was magic abroad in the air," _Thom sang, slightly louder this time. He kept his eyes firmly on Rachel's wide brown ones. "_There were…angels…dancing at the Ritz, and a nightingale sang in Berkley Square."_

As Thom's voice grew stronger, the general chatter from the Glee Club began to die down and three, four, eleven pairs of eyes turned towards the strange scene by the door. Rachel sitting uncharacteristically still by Thom, who was apparently totally unaware of his growing audience. As before in the deserted auditorium, Thom's brogue lent a certain impishness to the lyrics, at odds with the deer in headlights look he was currently sporting.

As a matter of fact, Thom was very conscious of his listeners, but found that as he went on, he was less and less affected by their presence. He even managed a few sideways glances of his own at the members of the Glee Club. As he came to the end of the first verse, Rachel nodded at the piano player, who was clearly itching to give Thom's voice some extra support.

The sudden accompaniment snapped Thom back to reality. He was singing- in front of people. His heartbeat raced, but emboldened by Rachel's presence and with supreme effort, came in at the next line. His voice was tenuous again, but each breath came easier and suddenly he found himself standing, his whole body suffused with the joy he had only felt before when performing alone. Still, he remained focused on Rachel, singing to her.

"_I know, 'cause I was there! That night at Berkley Square!" _Thom finished the song at almost full voice, trembling not only from fear, but surprise and pleasure at the surreal experience. A round of applause filled the void where Thom's voice had just been.

Rachel gave the Glee Club a smug smile. Thom's expression was somewhat more complicated- a grin warred with sheer panic as his knees suddenly had enough of supporting him. He collapsed somewhat less than gracefully into the nearest chair.

"Thom, I am impressed!" Mr. Schuester enthused, coming up beside the young Irishman. Thom blinked blankly at the Spanish teacher. "I mean, I've never heard you put two words together in class. When Rachel said you might be a good addition, I was skeptical, but well done! I think we might be able to put you in somewhere." Mr. Schue gave Thom a firm pat on the shoulder. Thom managed a weak, still somewhat shell shocked smile. A few murmurs of assent greeted Mr. Schue's announcement. Finn, however, remained silent, looking between Rachel's contented smile, Thom's dazed expression, and their two linked hands with a slight frown. Mr. Schue appeared not to notice and turned back to Thom and Rachel, managing an even wider smile.

"Well, that settles it. No solo guarantees, of course, but with a little practice auditioning…Nationals is a whole new game. Glad to officially have you, Thom. Alright guys, let's get back to work!"

In the rush of movement that followed, Rachel leaned in and gave Thom a small smile. Her diva mask was firmly reaffixed.

"We've got a lot of work to do, naturally, but the vulnerable thing was a nice touch. Well done."

Thom raised an eyebrow. Let her think it was acting, if it made her happy. He would simply bask in the glory of having defeated an obstacle that he had always considered insurmountable. What was a slushy to the face compared with that?

"Rachel…thank you. I think," Thom said slowly, but sincerely, as his mind churned. There was something else he wanted to say, especially with Rachel still leaned in so close to him. But maybe because of that, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Of course, whatever it takes. Stardom must always come first. Oh, and Thom?" Rachel asked, looking pointedly over at the almost assembled Glee members. Her smile got slightly wider.

"Yes?"

"You can let go of my hand now."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: My co-author and I would just like to take a moment to thank everyone who has commented, and those who haven't, but are hopefully still enjoying Thom's story anyway. Your encouragement is wonderful ! We hope that you'll stick with us! <strong>


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